Harley didn't tell herself she was looking for him.
That would've made it feel intentional, and intention carried weight. Expectations. The kind of thing she was still learning how to handle without turning it into something fragile or dangerous.
She left Arkham later than usual, shoulders tight beneath her coat, the building's doors closing behind her with a familiar metallic echo. The day had been long—not dramatic, not catastrophic. Just emotionally dense. The kind of tired that settled behind the eyes and refused to leave.
Instead of heading toward her usual stop, she slowed.
The other one was only two blocks farther. No real reason not to take it. Except habit. And lately, she'd been trying to loosen her grip on those.
The air felt heavier than usual. Not humid. Not stormy. Just… expectant. Gotham had moods like that. Like it was holding its breath.
The bus stop was mostly empty. One man scrolling on his phone. A woman smoking despite the posted sign. Harley stood near the glass shelter, hands in her pockets, rocking faintly on her heels.
Footsteps approached.
She didn't turn right away. Didn't need to.
"Hey," Eli said.
She looked over and felt something in her chest ease, just a little. "Hey."
He stopped beside her, leaving a polite amount of space. Same jacket. Same careful posture. He looked tired in a way that mirrored her own.
"Didn't think I'd see you here," he said.
"Yeah. Me neither." She tilted her head slightly. "You take this stop often?"
"Sometimes," he said. Then, after a pause, "More lately."
That felt like something, even if neither of them named it.
They stood together while the city moved around them. A siren wailed somewhere far off. Not urgent yet. Just present. The kind of sound you learned to live with.
The bus was late.
Harley exhaled. "Figures."
Eli nodded. "Yeah."
Silence stretched—not awkward, not heavy. Just unfilled.
"You ever get the feeling," Harley said, eyes on the street, "that something's coming, but you can't tell what?"
Eli didn't answer right away. His jaw tightened just a fraction.
"Yeah," he said. "Most days."
She glanced at him. "Does that mess with you?"
He thought about it. "Keeps me from lying to myself."
She huffed a quiet laugh. "That's… uncomfortably honest."
The bus finally arrived with a tired hiss, doors opening like they were doing everyone a favor. It was crowded. They ended up standing near the back, hands gripping separate poles, close enough to be aware of each other without touching.
Harley watched their reflections blur in the dark window. Two people who looked almost normal if you didn't stare too long.
The bus lurched forward.
"Long day?" Eli asked.
"Yeah," she said. "But not a bad one."
"That's good."
She nodded. "How about you?"
He shrugged. "Same as usual."
She didn't push. Some people offered details when they were ready. Others needed space to decide they were.
A few stops passed.
The city outside shifted from office lights to closed storefronts. Neon signs flickered. Weeds pushed through cracks in the sidewalk. Gotham wasn't subtle about its refusal to be polished.
"Sometimes," Harley said quietly, "it feels like the city's… awake. More than usual."
Eli stared out the window. "Some nights it won't shut up. Other nights it feels like it's waiting."
She shivered despite herself. "Yeah. That's not comforting."
"No," he agreed. "It's not."
The bus stopped sooner than she expected.
"That's me," she said, surprised. "Already."
Eli hesitated. "You want to walk?"
She nodded. "Yeah. I do."
They stepped off together.
Across Gotham, Joker watched a different screen.
The footage wasn't exciting. That annoyed him.
Harley moving through Arkham halls without bouncing, without singing. Speaking softly. Listening more than she talked. Boring.
"She'll snap back," Joker said lazily, leaning back in his chair. "They always do."
A henchman shifted nervously. "Boss, there's been… interference. Same guy as before."
Joker glanced at the other monitor. Grainy footage. A gray-skinned shape moving people out of the way. No theatrics. No chaos.
"Huh," Joker said. "That's new."
He smiled, thin and sharp. "Let him play."
Harley and Eli walked without deciding where they were going.
The city hummed around them. A stray cat darted across the street. Someone laughed too loudly down the block. Harley's shoulders tightened instinctively at the sound, then eased when nothing followed.
Eli noticed.
He didn't comment. He just adjusted his pace to match hers.
"You're pretty quiet," Harley said after a while. "You know that?"
He smiled faintly. "Yeah. I've got a lot going on up here."
"Same," she said.
They stopped at a crosswalk. The light changed. Neither of them moved.
Harley's hand clenched reflexively at her side. Not fear. Memory.
Eli stayed.
"You good?" he asked gently.
She nodded after a beat. "Yeah. Just needed a second."
"Take it."
That did something to her chest she didn't have a name for.
They crossed when the light changed again.
Batman stood on a rooftop three blocks away, watching a faint greenish flare dissipate into the night air.
Joker was testing something.
Not big. Not loud.
Yet.
Batman's gaze shifted briefly to a pair of figures walking below. He didn't recognize the woman at first. Then he did.
Harley Quinn.
Walking beside a man with gray skin.
Batman frowned—not alarmed. Curious.
Connections mattered.
They reached Harley's block without either of them acknowledging it.
"I live here," she said, then winced. "I mean—"
"It's fine," Eli said. "I figured."
She studied him for a moment. "You're… weirdly good at this."
"At what?"
"At not making things awkward."
He chuckled quietly. "I try."
They stood there, neither moving.
"You take this bus most days?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "I do."
She smiled. "Maybe I'll see you around, then."
"Yeah," he said. "I'd like that."
She turned, then paused. "Hey, Eli?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For tonight."
He watched her disappear into her building before answering the empty street.
"Anytime."
Eli stood there longer than necessary.
The pressure beneath his feet stirred faintly.
He ignored it.